Part saint, part conquering worrier, I belong to a tribe sometimes known as "working artists.” My domain is music composition: symphonies, operas, chamber music and like for concert venues. For the past 30 years, I’ve been going at it full time (4 - 16 hours a day). I’ve watched fellow tribesmen drop like flies, the rest turning into assholes. I plan on avoiding both. Some people find that intimidating.
Aside from my own appetite for excellence, I attribute all my achievements to my teachers. I expect myself to become one of these inspiring people for the rest of my life.
This being a dating site and all that, I should confess: I’m more of a hermit than I like to admit. All my friends think I’m an extrovert. So I’m not sure how that happened. Hopefully, having this profile adds some delight to my modest social life.
A bite more personal stuff before I bore you to death. Several years ago, I ended a ten-year-marraige, from which I learned a great deal about myself.
Top three presumptions about me to cross off:
1) I don’t hear the clock ticking;
2) I don’t mind dying alone;
3) My youthful appearance serves no justice to my precocious self. Gentleman of all age is welcome to reach out.
Top three things that do *not* impress me:
1) Money or glory (also people who brag about rubbing elbows with money or glory);
Top three qualities of folks I keep close:
1) The way they handle failure;
2) Devotion to their chosen discipling endorsed by care for their loved ones;
3) The people they keep close to heart, alive or dead.
These qualities define wealth. Wealth gives pulse to identity. Shared identity forms the bases of what I believe to be love. All is neat and logical until a greater force strike: we don’t choose the people we love.
Everything between arranged marriage to the mutually parasitic Frank and Clair Underwood says something about love. The world is a tad more interesting this way, is it not?